NIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS 
The old man’s frown deepened and his voice was full of anger 
as he replied: — 
“Now, den, is I’m de tale, er is de tale me? Tell me dat! Is 
I’m de tale, er is de tale me? Well, den, ef I ain’t de tale en de 
tale ain’t me, den how come you wanter take’n rake me over de 
coals fer?” 
“Well, Uncle Remus, you know what you said. You said that 
was the end of Brother Wolf.” 
“I bleedz ter ’spute dat,” exclaimed Uncle Remus, with the air 
of one performing a painful duty; “I bleedz ter ’spute it. Dat 
w’at de tale say. Ole Remus is one nigger en de tale, hit’s a n’er 
nigger. Yit I ain’t got no time fer ter set back yer en fetch out de 
oggyments.” 
Here the old man paused, closed his eyes, leaned back in his 
chair, and sighed. After a while he said, in a gentle tone: — 
“So den, Brer Wolf done dead, en yer I wuz runnin’ on des 
same lak he wuz done ’live. Well! well! well!” 
Uncle Remus stole a glance at the little boy, and immediately 
relented. 
“Yit,” he went on, “ef I’m ain’t de tale en de tale ain’t me, 
hit ain’t skacely make no diffunce whe’er Brer Wolf dead er 
whe’er he’s a high-primin’ ’roun’ bodder’n ’longer deyuther cree- 
turs. Dead er no dead, dey wuz one time w’en Brer Wolf live in de 
swamp down dar in dat ar country whar Brer Jack come fum, en, 
mo’n dat, he had a mighty likely gal. Look lak all de yuther 
creeturs wuz atter ’er. Dey ’ud go down dar ter Brer Wolf house, 
dey would, en dey ’ud set up en court de gal, en ’joy deyse’f. 
“Hit went on dis a-way twel atter w’ile de skeeters ’gun ter git 
monst’us bad. Brer Fox, he went flyin’ ’roun’ Miss Wolf, en he 
sot dar, he did, en run on wid ’er en fight skeeters des es big ez life 
en twice-t ez natchul. Las’ Brer Wolf, he tuck’n kotch Brer Fox 
slappin’ en fightin’ at he skeeters. Wid dat he tuck’n tuck Brer 
Fox by de off year en led ’im out ter de front gate, en w’en he git 
180 
